How not to murder your mother

Stephanie has held nothing back as she takes her readers through her mother’s transformation from glamorous role model into an ageing figure wearing knitted slippers, who stubbornly guards a fridge full of mouldy leftovers. Stephanie admits she has no idea what her mother really thinks about the book.

“I believe she is sublimating anger she may feel towards me by complaining about the design of the cover.”

That said, her mother has never minded her daughters discussing certain things others might find more difficult to talk about.

She’s not bothered about death, senility or incontinence or any of the nightmares associated with ageing of which I am petrified. She is even capable of finding them funny.”

The book, therefore, may well be seen as an extension of their shared life, revealing no disturbing revelations, because it has all been said along the way.

Stephanie feels that she and her mother are like olive and magenta: each fine in its own way, but not on the same sofa.

“We have some things in common. For example, we both make our scrambled eggs without stirring them and we’ve both dated heroin addicts. But it’s not enough to get us through a weekend.”

Perhaps it’s Stephanie’s ability to stir a spoonful of humour into every observation that takes the sting out of statements that would have upset the average mother.

After all, according to Stephanie her mother is anything but ordinary. When Stephanie was young, her mother went to parties in fabulous cocktail dresses, with hairpieces and false eyelashes.

Now her mother greets her at the door in a hand-knitted multi-colour waistcoat, visible in the dark at 200 yards. Under the waistcoat she wears a green silk shirt with a stain on the front. Not only does she know that the stain is there, but she wants it to be there. This is a woman who doesn’t want to be normal because normal is boring.

Stephanie’s father died some time ago, but during their childhood Stephanie and her sister grew up with two freelance artist parents. It was instilled in them that being freelance and living off the thoughts that come out of your head was completely normal. Whether written or drawn, such thoughts were considered valuable. They were taught to be individuals.

Yet (and this is where this book is very insightful), are we ever really free to be ourselves? As the chapters progress and Stephanie reflects on how her upbringing influenced the way she deals with her own children, it becomes quite apparent that we are never really free of our parents’ influence or their genes.

We may get really frustrated by their little habits, but gradually it comes quite obvious that we are chips off the old block. We may not be carbon copies of our parents, but we do find ourselves acting as they did or do.

In her chapter entitled Trick or Treat, she provides a superb example of this. It was Halloween, Stephanie was recalling the time her mother had painted an eye on her forehead when she was a child, which was so utterly convincing that the first guest to the Halloween party, a five- year-old girl, took one look at her and burst into tears. She was so distressed she had to be taken home.

While painting her son’s face with red and adding a few black scars before a Halloween party, many years later, Stephanie has such a strong sense of déjà vu that she starts painting an eye on her own forehead. Her children stare at her, transfixed.

The only difference is that — recalling her mother’s effect on that five-year old all those years ago — Stephanie remembers to smile broadly when offering sweets to the young visitors.

Gradually, as her mother begins to show signs of age, Stephanie becomes more and more aware of the way that she, the daughter, is becoming more and more like her mother. So much for being an individual!

n How (Not) to Murder Your Mother is published by Macmillan at £12.99.

Stephanie will talk about the book at the Oxford Literary Festival at 2pm on Saturday. For booking details, see right.